


Two Truths and a Lie

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: Gobmas 2020 [9]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Lost Girl Fusion, Door Sex, Episode Related, Episode: s01e12 Internal Affairs, Established Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Established Relationship, Incubus Malcolm Bright, Lost Girl fusion, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Older Man/Younger Man, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Protective Gil Arroyo, Succubi & Incubi, Werewolf Gil Arroyo, episode dialogue used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: The brass forces the issue. They need Malcolm to be cleared before he can touch any other cases.Good thing the Ash has a man on the inside. Malcolm Bright, meet Dr. Simon Coppenrath.---Another installment in my Lost Girl fusion series. You'll be confused if you don't read the original fic in its entirety first.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: Gobmas 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037802
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	Two Truths and a Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KateSamantha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateSamantha/gifts).



> hehehe, were you expecting _more_ Lost Girl fusion, Kate??? Because dat's what you got ;) I love youuuuuuu~ <3<3<3<3<3<3

“And what did you need exactly?” Simon stares at him, part incredulous, part curious. 

Malcolm’s not entirely sure what he sees. Probably another fucked up fae, truthfully. He’s sure Simon’s seen quite a lot more than most humans have, working under the Ash’s direct protection. Maybe Malcolm is even one of the less interesting cases he’s handled over the years. 

Simon sighs. “Tell me the truth, Malcolm. You electrocuted yourself. You could have easily died without an emergency feeding.” His gaze is piercing. He’s unafraid of fae, unafraid of Malcolm. He’s sure of his position, too, and they both know the Ash takes care of his own. “What happened with Gil after you handled John Watkins? What _really_ led you to lock yourself in that room?”

“He told me to leave,” Malcolm says softly, ducking his head. “He told me he didn’t want to see me again.” Blood wells up on his lip. He hadn’t felt the sting of his teeth. 

_Get the hell out of my precinct._ The warmth was gone from his eyes. His body was closed off. He was looking down at Malcolm like… like Malcolm hadn’t woken up next to him that morning, back to his chest, filled with his come and blissfully limp.

Hurt, Malcolm knew even then, was the chief reason for that look, but it didn’t help dull the pain of being on the receiving end of it at all.

“At least not anytime soon.” 

Simon nods. “So what?” His words are quiet. Engineered to be anything but sharp. Sympathetic, almost, but Malcolm can see just how little this human thinks of him. “Were you trying to get his attention? My notes say he rushed in as soon as he could to heal you.”

For weeks now, Gil’s been on edge. Protective and alert and ready to feed him at any given time. It was… stifling, for all that Malcolm understands. Those first few days after Watkins were filled with the two of them coming together again and again, Gil’s growls ringing through air already thick with Malcolm’s allure. He felt stronger than ever afterwards. 

And then this week happened.

Simon continues in the face of his silence. “Or was it payback? You make him hurt by putting yourself in danger. You’re the talk of the compound, you know. Everyone has their eyes on the two of you, and there are rumors Gil’s been throwing out the rules to protect you.”

“I’m sure there’s some measure of exaggeration there,” Malcolm says finally. At the very least, Gil never broke any rules. Maybe bent them. A little. He shifts in his chair, switching legs. “Despite what many think even in the fae community, an incubus like myself is capable of monogamy. I was aching, but Gil wasn’t an option. At the time, I felt it was the only avenue I had.”

Unless Gil would be open to it, Malcolm wouldn’t touch another as long as the werewolf lived. _Gil_ is who he wants. Meaningless sex was about keeping himself from starving, never about anything else. 

“So you shocked yourself again,” Simon says with a distinct sort of finality.

Malcolm meets his gaze and smiles bitterly. “You just completed your profile. You’re not gonna sign off on me working here, are you?”

“I’m sorry, Malcolm,” Simon says as he begins to put his things away. “I can’t, no matter what the Ash wants. To be blunt, I’m of the opinion you’re a liability not only to the NYPD but the community itself. You need real help. Maybe even a change of workplace. Either way, I’m sure the Ash can help you with the next step.”

Idly, Malcolm smoothes down his jacket. “What about Andi?”

And, of course, all of the pieces fall into place. 

## Three Weeks Earlier

There’s a knock at the door to the lower level of the loft. Gil is the one who hears it, and he nudges Malcolm into the bathroom to clean up at least to borderline decent standards. 

(Not that either of them _want_ him to wash all of Gil’s come off.)

When Malcolm pads out, hair still wet, sweatpants low on his hips and quickly fading bruises visible all over his chest and arms, he expects to see his mother. Dani or JT are less likely to stop by without a phone call first, but he supposes it could be them, too. 

It’s the Ash. 

Gil is standing tense by the kitchen island, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. Duty and instinct war on his face, plain to see. There’s another mug in front of the Ash, who smiles up at him, amused, from the table for the split second before realizing Malcolm has joined them. 

Two of his guards loom by the door.

“Malcolm,” he says warmly. “It’s good to see you taking care of yourself.” His stare doesn’t linger. He’s not tempted in the slightest by Malcolm.

And Malcolm is, as always, grateful for that. “What did you need?”

“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” the Ash promises not unkindly. “But first, I have a job proposal.”

“He’s working with me at the precinct,” Gil says tightly.

The Ash turns to him slowly. “Once the brass signs off on his return to consulting, yes. Don’t forget we’re dealing with human authority structures. I _cannot_ force this issue without bringing attention to all of you and in turn, myself.”

“So,” Malcolm cuts in, “you’re offering me a job in the meantime.” He’s never wanted to work for the Ash. Never wanted to be in the compound with everyone staring at him wondering if he’d be more like his father or his grandfather. 

But… he’s beginning to get sick of being cooped up at home, and Gil is going back to work tomorrow.

“A temporary one. I know better than to hold you back from the precinct for too long.” The Ash’s eyes linger on Gil, a small smirk on his lips. “I’m sure you’ll make quick work of what I put in front of you.”

Malcolm tilts his head. “I’ll stop by the compound to talk terms tomorrow.”

The Ash grins, teeth razor sharp. “Smart boy. I’ll expect you by shortly after the Lieutenant here clocks in.”

## Now

“I didn’t shock myself last night.”

Simon blanches, chuckles and shakes his head to shake off the confusion. “What?”

“I found these in the trash,” Malcolm says simply, taking the pill bottle out of his pocket. “Curtis was taking a heavy dose of anti-anxiety medication.”

He’d thought about shocking himself, yes. That he can’t and won’t deny. 

He’d even told Gil that that night.

## Last Night

“Gil, please,” Malcolm says quietly under the emergency lights in the precinct. The power outage roused him from where he’d locked himself in his office, and Malcolm can’t stand the distance between them any longer than he could ten minutes ago. 

Gil nods and leaves his door open. As soon as Malcolm is inside with him, he shuts it, putting his hands on his shoulders and inspecting him with tired eyes. “You don’t look fried, kid.” 

Malcolm closes the gap, leaning into him. “Because I didn’t shock myself.” 

Without a word, Gil inhales deeply. Some of the tension eases in his frame, but he’s far from relaxed. “I’d ask you to promise not to scare me again, but…”

Malcolm chuckles against him. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to do what the Ash asked me.”

“I know. It’s a lot,” Gil agrees. 

But it’s not the whole truth. “I wanted to,” Malcolm says quietly. “I think we need to have a talk, Gil. About us. Whatever the hell we’re doing.”

Gil squeezes him tight. “Okay, kid.”

## Now

“I wasn’t lying,” Simon insists. If he was a werewolf, his hackles would be raised. “I was asking the questions. This was _my_ review!” 

Malcolm has seen much scarier things. “It’s all on tape. The room’s wired. My team — and the Ash — have been watching you all along.”

That strikes a nerve. Simon pales but pushes on. “Your team? They think you’re nuts, Malcolm! Gil keeps you around out of some misguided sense of obligation that’s gotten all mixed up with your allure.” He grabs his files hastily. “I mean, I almost feel sorry for you —”

Malcolm can see the exact moment the team reveals themselves. The Ash is the final nail in the coffin, Simon’s desperation spiking with a finality he can only hope to hold off at the pass.

They’ll have to be _very_ careful with where they put this human. 

“My job is complete. See, you were a special assignment, straight from the Ash.” Malcolm looks at him placidly. “And now you’re under arrest, Dr. Coppenrath.”

He should be safe. The entire team is behind him. The Ash is there with his security. There shouldn’t be a problem taking one single human into custody. 

Of course, they didn’t factor in the gun.

“One last question,” Simon says, pointing it right at Malcolm’s head. “Can your werewolf get in here fast enough to heal a bullet to the brain?”

No. Malcolm would be dead before he hit the floor at this range, and not even the energy still coursing through his veins would save him. He vaguely hears Gil shouting orders behind him. JT’s voice is there, too, frantic and disturbed, and Malcolm spares a moment to think about setting up a double date with him and his wife once this is all over. Dani is silent, but her worried gaze is heavy on his back. The Ash is quiet and yet undeniably there. His words are for his security only, the presence of uninformed humans in the precinct preventing him from taking over the situation. 

Malcolm wonders if he’s remembering what Gil has clearly forgotten — Malcolm has negotiation training. 

“You’re a rational man,” he says softly, letting just enough of his allure out to make himself more approachable. The goal is to lull Simon in, not attract him. “A doctor. You’re not a killer.”

It’s working. Simon’s hand wavers. “How do you know that?”

“Because of Lily, your daughter.” The Ash had spoken highly of her potential back when he debriefed Malcolm. He’d hoped she would follow her father’s footsteps and become a great asset for the community, but then she fell in with the wrong crowd. “She didn’t die in a car accident.”

Simon sways closer to him, not even realizing he’s caught in his aura now. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Malcolm takes a step forward. “She died in a cult. You couldn’t save her. The Ash couldn’t step in on human affairs. You were angry. Lost. So you became a deprogrammer. Andi reminded you of her, didn’t she?”

“I _begged_ him to step in! He could have gotten her out in literal seconds,” Simon snarls. “I do so much for him, and he couldn’t fulfill a single request.” With that, his gaze darts over to where the Ash is standing beyond the window, and he swings the gun to point at him.

Malcolm dives over the desk to grab him, knocking it out of his hand to the floor, where it thankfully doesn’t go off.

“You’re going to be the death of me someday, kid,” Gil growls against his lips, the door rattling behind Malcolm’s back as he fucks up into him.

In response, Malcolm threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of Gil’s neck and smiles. “We saved her,” he says breathlessly. He’s still dressed, for the most part, his pants hanging off one ankle and threatening to fall with each thrust. They’re likely only still on by virtue of how tightly he has his legs clasped around Gil. He traces one of Gil’s fangs with his tongue. “The brass cleared me for consulting again.”

“Right back where you belong.” Each rock of his hips jarrs Malcolm into the hard wood of the door out of the loft. His cock squelches in the too much lube they used in their haste. His sack slaps against Malcolm’s ass rhythmically. He lets go of one leg to wrap a hand around Malcolm’s length, jacking him off in time with his thrusts. 

“I’m _your_ profiler,” Malcolm says indulgently, a smirk on his lips. Now that he knows what that look on Gil’s face means, now that he better understands the depths of his feelings, he likes the spark of jealousy, of possessiveness. 

Gil slams into him once more before he latches his teeth onto Malcolm’s neck, gently gnawing a mark there despite knowing it will be gone as soon as he lifts his head. His hand is still working, still stroking and twisting and teasing until his own cock, slowly filling Malcolm up with his seed, is gripped in a vice, his lover crying out. 

Allure continues to leak out of him at a steady pace, especially unhindered now that he’s had his release. Malcolm sighs happily. 

The Ash trusts him. Gil trusts him. He’ll be at work again tomorrow.

His life is picking up. 

**Author's Note:**

> The two truths were what Gil said to Malcolm in the heat of the moment and that Malcolm felt like he didn't have another outlet right after. The lie was him actually shocking himself. ;)


End file.
